


Bite

by marzpandamonium



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: All characters of age and unrelated, M/M, not really finished because i got tired of writing, rest assured, they fuck just not in detail, use your darling imagination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marzpandamonium/pseuds/marzpandamonium
Summary: Just some soft almost-smut without any real plot.





	Bite

**Author's Note:**

> Probably will stay unfinished until i can bust another thought nut but still yell your love for me anyways thx

Larry can feel Sal’s breath on the back of his neck, and he can’t particularly explain why that leads his shoulders to quiver. 

 

Or at least, explaining it with modesty and words larger than one syllable prove difficult in the moment. Right now, he’s pointedly ignoring that consuming stare. 

 

And Sal seems so damn determined to keep him from getting any kind of sleep. Little bastard.

 

He can’t say the habit isn’t endearing. Whenever Sal wants something— needs something, anything that he refuses to articulate, he posses The Gaze.( ™️ ) 

 

His eye narrow, body like a compressed coil. Larry can recall the strange unease that settles over him when he does this. Now is no different.

 

“Go to sleep Sally Face.” But Larry regrets having ever opened his stupid mouth, because that infuriating little asshole slinks his arm (all soft and fucking  warm ) right over his ribs and chest. 

 

And a palm kneads delicately at his right pec, scarred lips testing waters against the nape of Larry’s neck.

 

“... Does that actually mean go to sleep or can I uh...” Larry feels that hand flex against his chest again. 

 

 

 

For the umpteenth time, he sighs. Sleep genuinely  is what he wants... Yet, here he is— rolling over metaphorically and literally for his uselessly needy boyfriend. 

 

 

“Half an hour,” He states, tapping the underside of Sal’s chin. Larry watches him nod with the kind of enthusiasm he only exudes around fries and bottles of ranch. (Another story for another time.)

 

Its endearing, and he smiles softly back at him, threading bruised fingers through the nappy waves of Sal’s hair when he dives in to kiss. A little wet, a little unpracticed; it’s every kiss they’ve shared before, but the energy behind it is different. Sal is still that tightly coiled spring. 

 

Larry can pretend he doesn’t know the remedy for just a minute longer. He takes pleasure in knowing the man creeping his fingertips beneath Larry’s own waistband never feels so fucking desperate for anyone else. Sal’s lips are quick to dot a path from the corner of his lips, all down his jaw, and with care onto Larry’s bare chest as he adjusts downwards. 

 

“If you bite me-,” Larry warns sharply, because he can feel Sal’s hot mouth hovering just over his nipple, provoking the hair on his arms to prickle, “-I will smack the shit out of you, just like last time...” 

 

It appears to make him rethink his plan of action. Larry looks down, watching him laugh silently; the hand still situated in his blue tresses tenses in a reiterated warning. 

 

The only response Sal gives is cuddling his cheek up to Larry’s sternum. He makes a real show of rubbing his face into the meat of his pecs, and all at once Larry knows he isn’t going to promise anything. That disastrously hot mouth takes to toying at his piercing before latching on to suckle. Ripples of heat thrum up his neck, right into his cheeks.

 

Every soft flit of his tongue, every sigh exhaled against Larry’s chest; it threatens to unwind any prerequisites about time being an issue. Sal shifts to sneak a leg between his thighs, pulling him even closer as though he means to sink into him entirely. 

 

Nails dig into the skin of Larry’s hip and he gives a jolt, having forgotten that wandering hand entirely. His waistband gives way to let Sal paw none too gently at his ass, making the intent on abusing it quite crystal. 

 

Larry’s so fucking close to giving in, letting him do whatever the hell he wants— but teeth clink audibly against the bar in his nipple, and promptly Sal is pulled from his terrible fixation with a wet pop.

 

There’s a shit-eating grin on his  stupid face. 

 

“What the  fuck  did I say?” Larry starts, but his own half-grin betrays any idea of genuine anger. 

 

Sal shimmies away in the slightest, but he’s not going anywhere without his scalp. 

 

“I didn’t even bite; You’re just  sensitive.” 

 

Larry’s raised brows say ‘Excuse me?’, but his eyes say ‘You’re on the verge of being blue-balled’.

 

Hands retreat from whatever part of his body they resided on as Sal moves to sit up on his knees, somehow managing to slip from the death grip on his roots. Guilt ebbs into what was a once pleased smile when Larry folds his arms crossly over his torso, letting Sal nudge him to lie flat on his back. 

 

“I’m sorry?” Sal tries, more of a question than it needs to be. 

 

Larry doesn’t budge, watching the gears clunk in his boyfriends head as he exhausts the options. 

 

Deciding that distance is clearly the issue, Sal grabs firmly at his waist, yanking him flush against his pelvis in turn. 

 

“I’m  really  sorry?” 

 

Larry, who forgets often about the strength Sal holds, still isn’t swayed just yet. He stares on, waiting. 

 

Strands of hair tickle against his forearms as a kiss is gifted to the back of his hand. 

 

“I’m really, _really_ sorry ... That I did absolutely nothing wrong—“ 

 

_Asshole_.

 

“—  And that you’re sensitive?” Sal looks up to him, biting his own lip, like he’s the funniest thing in the world. 

 

“I wanted to  sleep !” Larry snaps above that obnoxious snickering, unfolding his arms to wrangle Sal down against him. “I’m the one being generous here, you fuck nugget!!” He’s laughing too now. 

 

Messy is a word he frequently uses to describe either of their sexual advances. Entirely too aware of the half-hard cock situated up against the back of his thigh, Larry let’s Sal rut lazily into him, truly being the generous one after all.

 

“I never said I didn’t appreciate you,” Sal mutters, face unseen in the crook of his neck. The amusement is still present, but that lowered rasp fluctuates. “How kind of you— to let me take away from the two hours of sleep you get all year, just to help me get off...” 

 

Larry knows full and well he would have gone straight to sleep if this was solely about Sal getting off. “You’re lucky I love you,” He taunts, rubbing soothing circles into Sal’s shoulder blade. His favourite little jerk melts right into him, mouthing softly at his jugular. 

 

“ Boy am I,”  is Sal’s delayed response. “I love you too,” Fingers beckon down Larry’swaistband, pleading for his hips to move up. “I love you  soooooooo much.” 

 

“Really?”

 

 

“Hmm... Positive...” 

 

 

“Are you sure?” This time, he lets him remove his pants, shuddering from the cool exposure. He holds every right to tease him. Pressing past boundaries is never something Larry fears, but Sal enjoys toying the line just for the sake of a surprise. 

 

_Is it a pop on the wrist or a kiss on the lips today? Will Sal get that patient benevolence that nurtures or the red-hot disdain that kills some of the mans worst habits?_

 

Every reaction is so terribly important to him. 

 

Larry could spend nights reflecting on just how attentive his lover can be, but the best example is working marks into his neck. Sal knows every button to press, every inch of skin to suck, kiss, touch,— he’s become quite the expert at working Larry’s body and emotions in such a fulfilling way. 

 

Likewise, Larry knows just how to stir that beautiful blend of want and need. He knows the particular octave of keening in his throat drives waves of chills up Sal’s spine. He  knows  that the hand previously antagonizing his scalp provoked more than just guilt. 

 

They’ve cultivated such a unique way of communicating and coexisting that the intimacy of it all is almost a little frightening. 

 

 

“I am,” is whispered into Larry’s freckled shoulder. 

 

 

And he lets Sal have his way, directly after. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i will have the idea of larry having nipple piercings pried from my dead nasty hands
> 
> come at thy nECK biTCH


End file.
